A Tear & A Whisper
by LoveAndCoughDrops
Summary: Near receives a letter from beyond the grave. And he thought murderous notebooks was the weirdest it could get.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Ta-da! This is the first Death Note story I've written that DOESN'T start out as a one shot. Still the possibility I'll be turning one of my one shots into a multi-chapter, but for now I've got a lot of other things I'm working on. I'm going to attempt to update Doppelgangers some time in the near future, and I've got at least two more stories coming out by the end of January. Hold me to that, please. I'm going as fast as I can with updates, but this semester began with a bang, and I doubt it plans on slowing down._

_I hope everybody's second semester has been easy to ease into!_

_X_

* * *

Near looked at the envelope in his hand. It was robin's egg blue, emblazoned with his name on the front in scrawling silver letters. The letters shimmered in an almost unearthly way. The envelope smelled faintly of chocolate, and he briefly imagined that it was a letter from the Hershey's factory for some unknown reason. Maybe they were requesting his help catching an evil Reese's Pieces thief. Near mused on its origins for a moment longer before deciding it couldn't possibly hold a threat. He slid his finger along the lining, ripping it open and freeing the letter from within. The familiar hand-writing, writing he had been absolutely positive he'd never see again, sent his mind into a tailspin.

_Near,_

_I'm standing right behind you._

Near's heart beat sped up, and he turned around, wildly searching for the apparition he'd expected to see. There was nobody there, so he turned back to the piece of paper with trembling hands.

_HA! Gotcha, you little twit. I really hope I'm watching when you open this letter. Honestly, I don't even have to be watching when you open this, since I know you'll be shitting your pants considering the possibility that ghosts are real._

_Don't worry Near, you don't have to wrap your little albino brain around that concept. Ghosts aren't real, and I'm not a ghost. But I am still dead. I just recently figured out that I've got a means of communication with the living, and then I realized I couldn't really remember anybody from my 'breather days.' Except for you. For some reason, when I sat down at my desk in my apartment, prepared to write a letter to freak somebody out, your name resounded in my head. _

_But more on that later. I get the feeling this alone may be too much for you to handle in one sitting, so I'm going to wrap my ramblings up for now. I'll be in touch again soon, Near-est and dearest._

_Mello_

Near let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and folded the letter up.

_Mello._

Mello was dead. He had been dead for over a year. So why the sudden contact?

Was this letter really from beyond the grave, or was it some clever ruse?

When would Mello write again?

Near had a lot to think about before that next letter.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: This took me a lot longer to write than it should've ._

_I had full well intended to have this done earlier in the week, but school kicked my butt instead. Keeping my rambling to a minimum, sorry about the wait!_

* * *

After the Kira Case ended, Near decided to take up permanent residence in San Francisco. He had always liked the peace he felt while sitting on a warm beach.

But today in the clutches of a humid California summer, Near wished he was still in dreary old England. His once-white pajama top had turned a pale grey, soaked with sweat. He had been sitting out on the porch for hours. Near yearned to be back inside in the air-conditioning looking for toys in boxes of cereal, but he couldn't go back in just yet. He wasn't done waiting.

The mailman with his navy blue burlap sack finally rounded the corner, and Near jumped off of his perch and rushed to the mailbox to meet him.

Mr. Norton had been working for the United Postal Service for nearly twenty years. He always liked to boast that after all the dogs he'd been bitten by, nothing could faze him now. Mr. Norton most certainly hadn't ever planned on getting ambushed by a wild-eyed albino kid.

Edward Norton examined the boy as he shuffled through his mail quickly. The boy seemed to be searching for something, probably a drug parcel, from the looks of him.

Edward had always prided himself on being able to read people like open books, and he could tell there was nothing special about this kid, just something crazy. The nutty little junkie turned and faced him. _Uh-oh, _Edward groaned inwardly.

"Where's the rest of it?" Near asked, his tone expectant. Mr. Norton tried to keep his tone cheerful.

"Sorry son, that's all ya got today."

"There's supposed to be a blue envelope. It wouldn't have a return address, but my name would be on it."

"Kid, I don't know your name, so unless it's got an address on it when I pick it up at the post office, it don't get delivered." Confusion clouded Near's face.

"But…you delivered one just like it yesterday without an address, and there were no problems then." Edward Norton looked completely scandalized at that.

"In all my twenty years of delivering mail, I have never once delivered an unaddressed letter unless it is personally handed to me!"

"Aha! So you admit to having an employer!" Near declared triumphantly.

The postman's face showed his exasperation. "Of course I have an employer you little nutcase, I work for the post office. Do your parents know you're outside unmedicated right now?"

"Who sent you to this house with a blue envelope yesterday? Did he look shady? Disreputable? Clad in leather? Did he pay you?" Desperation caused Near's voice to crack, and his hands started trembling for the second time in as many days. Mr. Norton's expression became gentler when Near looked like he was about to cry.

"Look kid, I don't know nothin' about no blue envelopes from secret admirers, but I know a thing or two about heat stroke, and I think you need to go inside and lie down in the air-conditioning, okay? And maybe drink some water too, you look a little pale son."

Near sighed and conceded defeat. The old man was obviously telling the truth. He really didn't have a clue about the letter's origins. He clutched his mail under his arm and trudged slowly back inside. Maybe the post office fellow was right, lying down would do Near some good. So would a nice big glass of lemonade and a 500 piece puzzle. His spirits lifted, Near walked up the steps and into the chilled house.

As soon as he stepped over the threshold, a blue envelope fluttered down and whapped him on the head.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I. Am sooo sorry this took as long as it did. I won't give you any of the standard excuses, but know that you have my utmost apologies.

This chapter is painfully short compared to usual, BUT, that's only because I'm posting two new chapters this weekend! One is going up tomorrow, and it should be longer than this one. You get two chapters for the wait-time of one! Souuuuund good?

Here's your Friday update errbody.

* * *

_Really Near, have you no faith? I figured after all the shit with shinigami and killer notebooks, you'd have no trouble believing a dearly departed friend was dropping letters off a cloud at you._

_For the record, I'm not dumping these off a cloud. The clouds are in a different sector than me, and I'm not traipsing all around Heaven when there's a post office down the street from my house._

_I'm not sure if there's any way I can convince you that I am who I say I am, short of popping up on your porch. But as I told you before, I'm a spirit, not a ghost, so I can't just show up on your doorstep and yell Boo. It doesn't work that way. There's paperwork you have to file, and all sorts of stuff. Not to mention, you have to go through three months' training in order to get your permit before you're allowed to make a breather-side visit. The Archangel's say there were just wayyy too many crazies trying to bring back pets and things of the sort when everybody was allowed to make trips to Earth. Now you have to prove you're responsible first._

Near was bewildered. There was paperwork in Heaven?

_Look, I wasn't even planning on writing again for a few days. Figured I'd give you some time to recuperate from your panic attack after my last letter. But we can't have you going around jumping mailmen in your free-time, so I jotted this down real quick to tide you over. Now I'll probably be late for my meeting, but I promise to write a more satisfying letter when I get back._

_Expect more from me later this evening._

_---Mello._

Near sighed and placed the letter next to its brother on the desk by the front door. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the desk and let out a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding.

"I'm not going crazy after all." he told his reflection "Mello really is writing me letters from heaven. I'm not being targeted by a hardened criminal or a stalker."

Near felt full to bursting with happiness, knowing he wasn't teetering on the precipice of insanity. The knowledge was a weight lifted off of his shoulders, and he decided to go build with Lincoln Logs while he waited for Mello's next letter.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: I'M SO SORRY! I said you'd get two chapters last weekend, and I only gave you one and I'm sorry! I had this one almost completely written, then I got distracted by my new mafia story. Mello is very demanding *sweatdrop* I'm going to attempt regularity with these updates from now on! I am determined to beat writer's block till it's a submissive bitch._

_Chapter 5 should be up this weekend *fingers crossed*_

_Happy late Valentine's Day!_

* * *

He didn't have to wait long. Only a few hours passed before the next letter showed up, this time in the living room.

Near was in the kitchen, fixing dinner and humming to himself when he heard the television turn on suddenly and of its own accord. He was in the middle of sautéing onions for his linguine al a pesce, but he left them on the stove and hurried in to the living room to see if Rester had maybe let himself in. He was just thinking how much he disliked people who didn't knock when he saw the blue envelope sitting atop the DVD player. His name, glimmering silver on the front of the envelope, looked even more glamorous amongst the Netflix sheaths littering the top of the television. Near sat down on the coffee table and began reading.

_I don't remember much from the end of my breather days. I remember the end hurt, but I don't really recall what pain feels like just yet. Sy says everything will come back to me eventually, if I just give it time. Sy is what I call him- him being the Messiah, Christ, you know, the second in command? When I got here He said I could pick my own name for him, and Sy just fit. He looks really familiar, but absolutely nothing like those pictures in chapels. He says his image changes for everybody, that he is seen how each individual person in Heaven wants to see him. Sounds incredibly exhausting to me, having to change yourself to fit everybody else's design. But Sy says it's a small price to pay for the joy it brings newcomers. The terms he used were much more divine of course, but divine isn't exactly my style as you well know. Bet you never thought you'd be getting paraphrased God-talk from me did you?_

_But the point of this letter isn't Jesus. I'm not sending you a manuscript of What to Expect When You're Expecting Death. (There's a book you'll never see in Borders.) The point I'm trying to get across in this particular letter is-_

Near smelled smoke and let out a noise that can be likened to the screeching of a cat being shaved by a rusty razor.

"THE ONIONS!"

He stampeded in to the kitchen where he quickly disabled the smoke alarm and set to work putting out the fire that had sprung up in his favorite skillet. Once the disaster was averted, Near sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. He mentally beat himself up for being so irresponsible. That fire could've gotten out of hand and he could've died!

It seemed that even in death, Mello was still causing fires.

Even though the onions were MIA now, everything else had turned out fine. Near checked to ensure the stove was off before going back in to the living room to finish the letter. He picked up where he'd left off.

_The point I'm trying to get across in this particular letter is that I don't even remember little things like how pain feels, but I remember you. I can't remember the sensation of breathing Near, but the first thing I remembered from my previous life was you._

_I remember that we were rivals at Wammy's House. I remember I hated you, and then I remember that I died, but I don't remember how or why. For what ends and means did my life end so early? That question keeps me up sometimes._

_I'm not telling you all of this because I want something, and I'm not trying to make you feel bad, if it's your fault I'm dead. I'm just posing a question I'm sure has already crossed your mind._

_Isn't it strange that I hated you so much in life, and yet you're the first solid thing I remember now that I'm here?_

_Well. I'm sure you're enjoying these existentialist questions as much as I am, but I should probably let you go for now. I checked in on Rester before I sent this, and he was about twenty minutes from your house. By the time you finish reading this, I'm sure he'll be much closer, so you really need to finish getting dinner ready. Wouldn't want him thinking you're incapable of living alone would we?_

_Of course, if he finds out about your little incident with the mailman, I'm sure a sub-par meal will be the least of his concerns about leaving you alone._

_Enjoy your evening!_

_Mello_

_PS I've legally changed my name to Mello. Sy says my name is whatever I want it to be now. He also says I can give myself a new last name. What do you think of me changing my last name to Dramatic? _

_Just a thought._

Near chuckled. Mello hadn't lost his sense of humor, that much was certain.

"_Isn't it strange that I hated you so much in life, and yet you're the first solid thing I remember now that I'm here?"_

His smile drained away. Near had no idea what to make of that either. Mello had definitely presented him with a conundrum.

A staccato rapping at the door brought Near back to the here and now. He didn't have time to ponder Mello's question at the moment. Rester was here for dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

Rester watched over the rim of his glass as his young ward toyed with a forkful of linguine. Dinner had been a silent affair, as it always was when one of them got lost in thought. He wasn't sure how to go about asking what was wrong. He had just made the decision to clear his throat to break the silence when Near spoke.

"I frightened the mailman earlier."

Rester regarded Near warily. "Frightened him how?"

"I was merely questioning him about the…workings of the postal service. He took it as an attack. I believe he's under the impression I'm addicted to narcotics now. Or possibly just severely ADHD."

Rester set down the glass of juice and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was times like this in which he wished he'd undergone some sort of formal training in childcare. Near sensed the possibility of an oncoming lecture and started to shuffle about picking up dishes, trying to look as functional and not-crazy as he could.

"Everything's fine now though; don't worry," Near called over his shoulder while he shunted dishes to the kitchen ", he explained the post to me, and I apologized for coming on so strong. We're on good terms now." He hoped that was the sort of thing a normal boy would present as a resolution to an issue. Rester was the closest thing Near had to a parent- he wasn't really sure how familial interactions were supposed to pan out. Luckily for him, Rester was just as clueless, so Near still had a fair chance of keeping him from figuring out anything was amiss.

"That's good to hear, Near. I'm glad you're assimilating yourself into the community." The relief was obvious in Rester's voice. Likely he'd been dreading trying to come up with something parental and stern to say as much as Near had been dreading listening while trying to look properly chastened. After the dinner dishes were cleaned up, they decided to watch a movie. Rester had brought some dead-boring detective flick with him. Near couldn't help but think how much better he would've done at catching the culprit. Another letter wafted down on the sink while Near was in the restroom (taking a much-needed break from the movie). This one was significantly shorter than the others:

_That movie sucks. Next time Rester wants to bring a film over, tell him it needs to have a ton of explosions._

_-M._

**There are seriously NO WORDS to express how sorry I am at making everyone wait so long for this story! I don't even know if any of you beautiful people are still reading this (I would completely understand if you've given up on me: I think I sorta gave up on myself there for a while- er…two years, to be exact). I know this chapter wasn't exactly worth the insanely long wait, but I'm gaining speed and everything should be coming up roses from here on out. I'm uploading another new chapter on this tomorrow, as a matter of fact. I'll have some new fics out soon, with all new fandoms (though our favorite chocolate-fiend will be making an appearance in at least one of them), and I fully intend to finish my older stories as well. I haven't abandoned you, as long as you haven't abandoned me! I'll be updating again soon. Promise xx**


	6. Chapter 6

It was only 11:30 when Rester left. Near wasn't the slightest bit tired. He paced around restlessly, unsure what to do with himself. Two different Lego sets were quickly abandoned, a puzzle was made short work of, the kitchen was scoured. Not even researching the various effects on the human body of drinking formaldehyde kept his attention for more than twelve minutes. Near was used to restlessness, but this particular type of discontent was foreign to him. This wasn't regular boredom or agitation. This felt like missing a limb; like being thirsty in a desert. It was _longing, _for what Near didn't know, but it was starting to frustrate him to no end.

Realization struck in the middle of reorganizing the cleaning supplies: the feeling was loneliness. Near was stunned. He'd never been lonely a day in his life. He had no _use _for companions outside of his toys and those in his employ. But suddenly he wanted to talk to someone desperately. Not just somebody- he wanted to talk to Mello.

He wasn't entirely positive how to go about getting a spirit's attention. The letters had just been coming to him up to this point, but if Mello knew Near wanted his attention right now, he wasn't obliging. Near wondered if there was a way for him to go about sending letters of his own (where exactly would one find a post box that delivered to Heaven?). In the end he decided to try something easier first.

"Mello! If you're listening, I could use some entertainment right now." Near felt like an idiot yelling at his ceiling, but it had the desired effect. A letter materialized on his lap scant minutes later.

_Y'know, for a certified genius, it took you a damn long time to figure out that I can hear you. Or at least it sure took you a long time to talk back._

_And for the record, I find it rather insulting that you assume I write to you for your entertainment. I write to you because I'm hoping you'll be able to jog my memory about what happened to me in my time on the breather side. And of course, I write for the very same reason you're beginning to crave these small bouts of communication- I am lonely. Seems like a strange thing to say when I'm in fuckin' HEAVEN, but there ya go. I've made a few friends since I got here, but I think it's just human nature to want a companion, even when you're technically not human anymore. Still, pretty trippy that we definitely weren't friends from what I remember, and now I'd give my favorite pair of pants to be able to stand face to face with you, huh?_

_Man, this letter got depressing and fast. Maybe it's time to veer the conversation back on a slightly more upbeat course. Yes, I can listen to you when you speak. I could listen to anyone if I wanted, but it takes a lot of energy and I can really only focus on one breather-side location at a time. Only Sy and a few others have the strength to pay attention to everybody at once. Though I did have my sector's Archangel show me a neat trick today- I can officially send insta-letters from my house. I guess it's sort of like angelic IM, or talking on the phone with a slight lag on my end. So any time you want to talk to me, just yell, and I'll respond a minute or two later. Sure beats attacking the postman for letters, huh? (My answers will still be in letter form. I still haven't figured out how to actually let you hear my voice. Sorry)._

_I got a letter of my own earlier. An official communication from the Reunion Board. I know that doesn't really mean much to you, but it's kind of a big deal up here. It means that they've processed my request to be reunited with someone from my living days. See, like I said earlier, there are different sectors of Heaven. It's not guaranteed that you'll immediately run in to somebody you know. I mean, it's kind of a big place. So the Reunion Board helps you find people, if you get it in your head to start looking. In cases like mine where the non-living party forgets most of their "life," they have to monitor you and see how you cope with being immersed in the afterlife before they'll let you try to handle the culture shock of a major memory jog like this. They haven't told me who it'll be yet; I'll find out when I go tomorrow to the designated meeting area. I know it sounds stupid, but I sort of hope it'll be my mom. I'll be grateful no matter who shows up, mind you, but it'd be pretty cool to have some crazy family reunion. Whatever. No sense in piecing together a bunch of cutesy scenarios, just in case this ends up being a bust. I'll let you know how it all goes down._

_I should really go get some sleep (or else I'll die of exhaustion, ha ha). You should try to sleep too. I'll write again soon._

_Good night, Near._

There was a lump in Near's throat upon finishing the letter. "Good night, Mello," he whispered. He was surprised to find he was even lonelier than before.

When Near fell asleep not long after, it was with his teddy bear clutched to his chest. He dreamt that it was a flesh and blood Mello he hugged instead.

**See? What did I tell ya! More than one update this week. I'm hoping to get another one out soon. Things are about to get way more intense for Near and Mello, so let me know what you think :] I only hope I can make up for the last two years of no updates **


	7. Chapter 7

Near had four letters on his bed when he woke up the next afternoon. He opened them (each one more urgent-sounding than the last) while he ate his cereal.

_Letter #1) I just got back from my meeting, Near. You need to wake up so that I can tell you about it._

_Letter #2) Near, get up. I'd come down there and shake you myself if I could, but that's obviously not an option. I neeeeeeed to talk to you about what happened, and I don't want to tell you the story until you're awake so that I can get an immediate response._

_Letter #3) Seriously, HOW ARE YOU STILL ASLEEP? I've been intentionally directing all of these letters at your head so they'd hit you and possibly rouse you. WAKE UP, YOU LITTLE SHIT._

_Letter #4) Fine. DON'T wake up. I hope you roll over on those letters in your sleep and they give you papercuts and you bleed to death. Then you'll be here in Heaven with me and you'll have no choice but to listen to my story._

Near laughed at Mello's eagerness to talk about the meeting. He took a sip of juice and shouted "I'm up, Mello! You can tell me about your meeting now; I'm all yours." There wasn't even a 30 second delay before the letter landed next to Near's hand.

_Sy Almighty, FINALLY. I've had this letter on standby for ages waiting for you to pay attention to me. I added this part in just now to express my irritation. At any rate-_

_I got to the RB meeting rooms right at my appointed time this morning. The meeting rooms look like they should be conference rooms, but with way more color in them. The walls in mine were this super peppy shade of purple, and it had a big coffee table with overstuffed armchairs around it. Sorta reminded me of something out of Harry Potter. I don't know why the hell I'm describing the place to you, I guess just to set the tone. This feels like the sort of story that deserves an exposition scene. Turns out my mom isn't the person they contacted for me. It's Matt. Needless to say, I was floored. Especially since I'd forgotten about him until that very moment. When I walked in the room and saw him sitting there, playing some stupid handheld…it was like he'd never been gone at all. I remembered him, Near. It felt good to be with him again. I was almost as happy as I'll be whenever I finally get to be in the same room as you._

_After we finished the shouting and hugging like idiots, we sat down and he told me everything he remembers. He remembers a lot. Definitely more than I could've hoped to figure out on my own. He told me everything I'd forgotten about Wammy's House, and L, about my life after I left England. Even more importantly, he helped me remember my death. I know now, Near. The notebook, Light, the chase. I can't believe I forgot, or that Matt died for me, because of me. I can't believe I allowed both of us to die over something so senseless. I'm sure it was important from a breather perspective, but the competitive nature of my relationship with you ended up killing me, and I find that somewhat disgusting. Now, I can't begin to imagine treating you so terribly. Guess this place has changed me more than I thought! _

_Once he'd reminded me about everybody, I had to ask if he'd managed to come in contact with any of them. Turns out he sees L and Light on a regular basis. He said he'll take me to visit them next time he goes. They're an item now. Yes, you read that correctly. It took death, but they finally set aside their differences and admitted their feelings for one another. They don't really have anything to fight about up here. That's what Paradise really is, I guess: everything you've ever feared, everything that's ever held you back…it's gone once you die. No more stupid rivalries, or megalomaniacal plans. You can just be with the people you love, and love the people you used to hate. I doubt there's anything more beautiful than that on any existential plane. (Seriously, what is it about you that makes me say sappy stuff?). L is on the Reunion Board waiting list. He's hoping that he'll be able to find Watari that way, since nobody's seen him on this side yet._

_I told Matt all about you when he asked if I had talked to anybody. He says hi, and he might write you a letter of his own some time soon. I'm going to proofread before he sends it, that way I can make sure he doesn't say anything inappropriate to you. I'm the only one who's allowed to send you inappropriate letters._

_All in all, I'm really satisfied with the outcome. I got my best friend back, and that's a wonderful feeling. I still went over to the Reunion Board application office after Matt and I parted ways, and signed back up. Maybe next time, it'll be Watari, or my mom sitting by that big oak table. I'm hoping everybody's been located by the time you get here, that way we can all be together. _

_That must sound really morbid to you, me talking about your death like it's some big party. Sometimes I forget that most breathers are scared to die. Once you get here, you don't really know what the big deal is anymore. I've never really gotten…homesick (I guess that'd be the term?) for living- though for those few who do really regret dying, there is a support group that meets every Tuesday and Thursday at a park. The only thing I can honestly say I miss is you._

_I guess it's pretty obvious the meeting has put me in an introspective mood. I'm certainly rambling more than usual, anyway. I think it's time to wrap up this crazy letter, but don't forget, I'm just a shout away if you need me. And you can likely expect that letter from Matt in a few days._

_Love, Mello._

_PS- "I'm all yours." I like the sound of that ;]_

**Look at this! Another chapter! I'm seriously going to try to make it up to you all that I sucked for so long. **

**We're going to start to see more development in Mello and Near's relationship, and possibly letters from a couple of other characters as well. I'm making this fic my number one priority!**

**Hope everybody is having a fantastic start of school :]**

**x V**


	8. Chapter 8

Three hours passed before Near moved from his spot at the table. Mello's story left his head spinning. Having only been flustered a few times before, Near was not sure how to go about organizing his jumbled thoughts in to coherent questions. He ended up deciding to compose a letter. He grabbed a piece of paper, and after a few false starts, began to write.

_Dear Mello,_

_I'm glad to hear your meeting went well. It's rather curious that there's so much bureaucracy in Heaven. Applying for reunions and going to support group seems out of place in my visions of an afterlife. Though I guess, there will always be a need for organization, even in death._

_I seriously doubt I'll ever actually send you this letter, since it's mostly just a place for me to reason out my feelings. With that in mind, I have no idea why I'm writing in genuine letter format. Is there even a way for me to send you letters? Well, regardless of whether this gets sent or spoken, I'm going to continue on to my questions now._

_Firstly,_

At that point, Near heaved a sigh and gave up. His thoughts weren't going to get any less scattered than they already were, so he might as well just get Mello's attention and ask his questions without wasting further time writing them down.

"Mello! I'm curious about a few things, if you'd be willing to give me some answers." The reply was immediate: _Ask away. _So for the next hour, Near and Mello had a weird, long-distance Q&A session.

"How did Matt look? Was he…healthy?"

_Well Near, he's dead, so health is kind of a relative term now. Are you trying to find a delicate way to ask if he's riddled with bullet holes? I'm assuming that's what you mean, and if that's the case, I assure you he looks fine. Any pre-death injuries disappear once you come up. For instance, my facial scarring is now gone._

"Smartass. Does dying hurt? And how do you work out what cloud sector you live in, is there some kind of heavenly real estate agent?"

_Better a smartass than a dumbass, babe. Death may hurt momentarily, depending on what's going on. I remember pain, but it was like I blinked, and then I knew I'd never feel pain again. Though I guess technically death wasn't what hurt; it was having a heart attack that was painful. So y'know, if you get stabbed, I think it's safe to assume the knife caused the pain, not the 'life leaving your body,' part._

_As for your second question, when you get here, you'll be greeted by two people: Sy, and one of the many angels. Sy will give you a standard sort of speech welcoming you home, and then the angel will assign you a house and show you around your sector. It's a little like those presentations about purchasing a timeshare, only less terrible, obviously._

"Do you know when and how I'm going to die?"

_Sorry, I have no idea. You don't magically get granted fortune-telling abilities in the afterlife. Sy and the shinigami are the only ones with access to information like that, as far as I'm aware. Don't stress about it too much though. For all you know, you have a hundred perfectly healthy years left in you._

That thought-which probably would've been a huge comfort a few days ago- made panic swell up in Near's chest. Another hundred years with only letters to connect him to Mello? He pushed the awful idea away, and continued asking questions.

"Do you think there's a chance we'd be separated when I get up there? What if dying shocks my memory loose too and I forget you?"

_Yeah right! Your memory is a steel fucking trap. There's no way the ever-unflappable N would let something like death cause him to forget anything. Not to mention, I'd like to think I am way too memorable to ever forget._

_We won't be separated. I'll find you no matter what, Near. I intend to be the third face you see whenever you get here. Right after Sy and the tour guide angel. Even if you somehow managed to not remember me, I'd pester the shit out of you until you did._

"What did you mean, Mello, when y- when you signed your last letter with love?" Here was the truly important question, the one Near needed to hear the answer to more than anything. It seemed to hang there in the air after he asked. The minutes between the question, and Mello's written response were crushing.

_I'd figured even for someone as dense as you, the answer to that would be obvious, boy wonder. Matt may be my best friend (don't think I didn't sense your jealousy while you were reading about my meeting with him, Near), but what I feel for you is something just as deep and very different. You and I obviously have a special bond of some kind. I wouldn't have remembered you- and you alone- otherwise. I signed that letter with love because I love you. Obviously._

_"Right, OBVIOUSLY," _Near thought. He was once again struggling to form intelligent thoughts. Mello had that effect rather often it seemed. Near ran through his entire vocabulary in his head, trying to find something to say back. He finally settled on the most poetic response.

"Oh. Right. Of course."

Near ground his teeth. _Why on Earth do they call me a genius, if that's the best I can come up with? _A letter fell a few breaths later, surprising Near. He hadn't been expecting an answer.

_Are you serious?! "Ohrightofcourse" is the response I get to a heartfelt proclamation of love? Near, I honestly can't decide if I'm gleeful or furious right now. _

"Gleeful? Why the hell would you be gleeful?!"

_Because I managed to render you speechless, and when you're professing love, that's hardly ever a bad thing._

Near's heart hammered in his chest. A second letter fell before he had a chance to formulate a sentence.

_We're going to try this again, later tonight. I'll give you a few hours to process the information, and then I'll send another note. Don't try to contact me before you hear from me again. In the mean time, why don't you go for a walk or something? I think the sun misses seeing you._

_I'll talk to you later._

It took an hour or so of panicking, but Near finally convinced himself to get up and go sit on the porch with a puzzle. He was terrified that he might've pushed Mello away, upset him beyond repair. But there was no sense in sitting inside for the remainder of the day, fretting about it.

_**This chapter was a ton of fun to write, but I kept freaking out about planning the answers, which explains the small delay in updates. That, and I started watching Doctor Who . **_

_**Found a massive document full of stories I'd wanted to write from a few years ago! I'm seriously considering starting some of them now, but all in due time ^^**_

_**Have a Near-ly perfect week, lovelies. (I am too damn cheesy for my own good sometimes.)**_


End file.
